Anyhow, our first excursion in Sydney was to go down to the Circular Quay and get a ferry over to Watson's Bay. (Do you know, I don't think I quite appreciated exactly where we were until I looked this up just now...that's exactly like me to simply go along and see what I see. It's one of the ways blogging enriches me, giving me cause to look things up I wouldn't normally. Oh and, whilst we're in parentheses, you do know that you can put place names into Google and click on 'maps' and then 'satellight' to see wondrous things -- literally see most of the world. I'm sure you did, but thought I'd mention it just it case.)
It started with a walk to the bus stop, a block away from Chris and Jane's house.
Chris pointed out a camphor laurel which is considered a noxious weed in Australia (as is pretty much anything not native, I gather). He crushed the leaves for me to smell and it was very reminiscent of my Grandpa, who often smelled of Campho-Phenique (or maybe it was mothballs...).
Using the bus prompted a discussion about senior citizens' perks. Bill has a pass that he can use on any local bus service right across England and Wales for free. Another pass will let him use our metro and it costs £12 a year compared with, last I knew 2 years ago, about £400 for regular folks. I didn't catch what Chris's Senior Card entitled him to, only that Jane couldn't apply for one until after she turned 60, which seemed inefficient. Also, that on Chris's card it says
The holder is a valued member of our community. Please extend every courtesy and assistance.
I thought that was a nice touch, actually. Bill howled with laughter.
I did my usual act of stopping to take photos and scurrying to catch up. I'm well used to it now and it quite suits me; I hope it doesn't inconvenience others too much. On the way to the ferry we stopped to admire the public art.
We passed a pair of buskers, an aboriginal man playing a didgeridoo (more about this later) and another guy hitting a couple of sticks -- a percussion instrument of some kind -- together for rhythm. It was pretty good music, actually, though I didn't think I wanted to buy a $10 CD; not sure I could listen to it for long.
Once on the ferry, I took the obligatory photos of
the Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge.
The water was disappointingly grey, much like the North Sea at home, not at all like I remember it looking on past visits. It rained for a bit and so we went inside for shelter. After a couple of other stops we arrived at Watson's Bay. Turns out it had a beach (Camp Cove) with some restaurants
and some nice old houses with amazing views of the Sydney skyline.
I did my usual act of stopping to take photos and scurrying to catch up. I'm well used to it now and it quite suits me; I hope it doesn't inconvenience others too much. On the way to the ferry we stopped to admire the public art.
We passed a pair of buskers, an aboriginal man playing a didgeridoo (more about this later) and another guy hitting a couple of sticks -- a percussion instrument of some kind -- together for rhythm. It was pretty good music, actually, though I didn't think I wanted to buy a $10 CD; not sure I could listen to it for long.
Once on the ferry, I took the obligatory photos of
the Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge.
The water was disappointingly grey, much like the North Sea at home, not at all like I remember it looking on past visits. It rained for a bit and so we went inside for shelter. After a couple of other stops we arrived at Watson's Bay. Turns out it had a beach (Camp Cove) with some restaurants
and some nice old houses with amazing views of the Sydney skyline.
1 comment:
I think you are correct about sewing, although I do enjoy doing the touristy thing in my home town as well.
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